


Thrust

by Heather C (riteinthefeels)



Series: The Woes of Deceit [5]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Affection, Bath Sex, F/M, Mostly porn, gifting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-30
Updated: 2014-01-30
Packaged: 2018-01-10 14:58:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,382
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1161046
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/riteinthefeels/pseuds/Heather%20C
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I can't be the only one who watched TDW and saw the remnants of a failed relationship between Loki and Sif. Maybe when they were much younger, before anything in the movies went down, they had a thing.</p><p>Also, continuation of Parry, part of The Woes of Deceit, which is turning out to be much longer and more involved than I ever anticipated.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Thrust

Sif’s fingers explore the cracks in stone worn smooth by centuries of use. The great basin still holds water on account of the many repairs made to it, and blunt nails work at a rough spot of grout. Steam billows around her face, dampening sepia locks against her forehead. She slinks down to wet her hair, surfacing with a gasp and rubbing water from her eyelids. The door creaks shut behind her. She reaches for the dagger resting on the tub’s ledge, extending her arm towards the door before her eyes focus on the intrusion.

“ _You told him!_ ” Loki hisses from the end of her blade.

Replacing the weapon on the tub, she turns toward him, rivulets tracing the outlines of her curves.

“You know I would not.”

“Then how did he find me, Sif? He is not that astute.”

“You forget that he is that stubborn. He went missing more than three months while looking for you. He also knows you better than you think he does.”

She folds her forearms against the stone and rests her chin.

“I heard you were back. Did you find what you sought?”

Meeting her with a scowl, he glares from the corner of an eye before his eyelids lower and he grins.

“Did you miss me?” he whispers, shedding the chartreuse tunic and dark pants he wears around the palace.

She reaches to his thigh, brushing over the now-scarred injury.

“You know that I did.”

Climbing into the balmy water behind her, Loki caresses her side as she turns to face him. Sif wraps her arms around his torso, leaning to taste his cinnamon lips as he pulls her back, water eddying around their entwined bodies. They bite and pull at each others’ mouths, hands squeezing what flesh they can find.

“It’s a shame, really,” Sif muses.

“What is?”

“That they didn’t break your pretty face. Your vanity needs to be taken down a notch,” she teases, and Loki dunks her head under and holds it against his belly until she launches from one side of the tub and rams him against the other, sloshing water onto the mildewed floor.

“Argr, you should know better!” she giggles and pushes him under.

Flinging water from his eyes, he gasps and sputters.

“If you weren’t so manly, I’d challenge you, trollop,” he retorts, both knowing his magic can best her blade in a duel, “But I’m afraid of your brawny hands marring my beautiful skin further.”

“I’ll show you manly, sir.”

Hands wrap around his throat, thumbs pressing lightly against his trachea as he licks his lips. Fingertips meet at his nape and barely squeeze as she encircles his waist with strong legs. She kisses him again, slowly this time, and his hand slides up to cup her breast before she grabs his wrist, pulling it down to her engorged cunt.

“You’ve been a naughty girl,” he chides. “What have you been up to while I’ve been gone?”

“I had hope that you would visit me tonight. I just got a little carried away.”

He thrusts two fingers into her, probing and rubbing along the smooth walls as Sif grinds into his touch. Digits of one hand dig into his collarbone while others wrap around his stiffening shaft. She gasps, slack-jawed, into his mouth.

Loki’s face dips to her breast, and he tongues the pale nipple until it hardens between his lips, wet black tresses clinging to her creamy skin. She pushes his head up against her entrance and he drives in, forcing a shuddering moan from her lips. He rocks slowly within her, savoring the way she forcefully ruts against him and milks his cock in effort to speed his rhythm.

His thumb finds the nub of her clit nestled within silky curls and presses against it as he quickens, one arm snaking up her back. Her ankles lock and her heels dig into his spine, goading. Muffled moans loose from between her teeth and ricochet from damp stone walls. She comes, bucking furiously, and echoes of her screams swallow the room as she clenches down around him.

Loki thrusts through her orgasm until she falls limp and pliant as a rag doll. He flips her over and Sif leans against the lip of the basin as he raises her hips to enter her again, slick fingers rubbing against her ass. His fingers slide in and he ruts harder, stroking from both sides until she can barely breathe and her eyes roll back into her head. He finally lets go, groaning and clutching at her hips as he fills her with seed.

They sag to the bottom of the tub, knees finding purchase within grouted cracks. Sif moves first, wiggling around to face him and planting tender kisses on his lips and cheeks.

“Am I your favorite?” she asks.

He smiles, eyes soft as he answers, “Yes.”

“You tell everyone that,” she accuses, splashing him. “I’m glad Thor found you, Loki.”

“Sif…” he hesitates, unsure what he wants to say. “I’m glad you decided to move into the palace to further your training.”

Their noses touch and she throws her arms around his neck as they lean against the basin’s wall.

“I brought you something,” he offers. “From Alfheim. A shield—not that you need it, I know you don’t. But I want to make sure you are safe. It’s elven-made of the strongest metal in the realms.”

“Loki, I—thank you. That is very kind. I shall learn to use it. Now I must dry off before I wither away to nothing.”

She rises, water swirling in mysterious patterns beneath her, and straddles the edge climbing out. Loki pushes to his feet as well, squeezes her ass, and kisses her neck, pressing his body up against her back.

“You don’t have somewhere to be, do you?” he asks. “Because we could do this some more, if you want.”

Sif half-turns and gently pushes his nose with a finger. “We could, but we should do it in my quarters or we’ll _both_ wither away to nothing!”

~*~

“Look, I won’t use any magic. Just try it,” Loki pleads, hefting a double-bitted axe wider than his waist.

“Use what you like,” she retorts, stray brunette strands whipping around her face. “I need no handicap against the likes of you.”

Sif picks up her familiar shortswords, and then returns one to the rack in favor of Loki’s shield, wrought in gold and silver and etched with protective runes around the border.

“What do you think?” he calls.

“It’s… shiny. Has a good weight to it, despite the size.” She knocks her blade against the flat surface. Green sparks jump from the shield. “You enchanted it?”

Loki grins, stepping back into the middle of the ring. He raises the axe over one shoulder and charges with a chilling scream, knocking Sif hard on the left with the flat of the blade. She staggers against the wooden fence, ducking the return swing and rolling behind him.

Weight of the axe unbalancing his usual agility, Loki turns awkwardly as Sif stabs forward, grazing his bare arm. He quickly pulls his weapon from the dirt, lobbing the edge toward her shield arm. She catches it against her blade, hooks her guard under the shoulder and flings it across the ring.

Panting, Loki grabs a claymore from the rack and sidesteps Sif’s charge. He sweeps down as she spins, flat blade colliding with her back.

“Use your shield!” he howls, arcing the sword above her to cut from the front.

She raises the aegis to meet the blow, and the heavy two-hander bounces off when it should slice through the flat metal. Green sparks shower her feet.

“Good!” he praises, lowering the claymore’s blade.

Loki waves Fandral in from his spectator’s position, handing him the sword as they pass.

“Don’t hold back, Fandral. Allfather knows none of her enemies will,” he murmurs to the dashing blonde.

“Tired so soon?” Sif yells. “I’m barely getting warmed up.”

“Indeed, my lady. That’s thrice you’ve worn me out and the sun has yet to dip to its rest.”

He winks and hops over the rail, trudging toward the stables. The clang and scrape of battle chases him, growing ever fainter as he disappears over a hillock.


End file.
